I Propose a Compromise
by degreenifyinggravity
Summary: "'Marriage is a legal contract. And for two fugitives, even two presumed dead fugitives, to become involved with anything legal… it's practically suicidal.' 'Forget the legal part, and we'll just have the promise part. We can get married right here, right now, without telling another soul.'" Fiyero's sort-of proposal. Cute, post-musical, Fiyeraba fluff. Please review!


**Hello! *crickets chirping* Wow, has it really been so long since I've… 8 MONTHS AND 2 WEEKS AND 1 DAY since I have left any sign of life around this lovely fandom. Probably has something to do with my life being eaten by my English class. Well, I apologize, ladies and gents. Here's a bit of fluff to make up for my absence, so enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Wicked is not mine. If Wicked were mine, I would be behind the scenes of the production in Singapore, swimming in pools of money, and creating the movie. I would not be reading the Odyssey and diagramming the life cycles of plants.**

Fiyero had bought a ring. It had taken months to procure the object, and now… well, he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Elphaba had always stiffened at the prospect of marriage, and he knew very well that any proposal would take a good bit of convincing. Then, she would lecture him – the implications of marriage, the irrelevance of marriage, the danger of marriage… By the time she was finished, his idealism would be no match for her logic, even when he had charisma on his side.

So, Fiyero waited… and waited… and waited. He waited for three days. It was a long and brooding three days, and Fiyero could scarcely go one minute without pacing or scratching his head as he tried to put together a decent speech, or presentation, or something… anything that would convince her to marry him. He stared at the trash bin that was currently overflowing with the prince's half-formed declarations of love and saccharine metaphors. Sighing, he decided it was time to call it a night.

That morning, he awoke to a sight that, frankly, scared the shit out of him. He groggily found his way to the kitchen, only to see Elphaba, perched on a shabby desk chair, with an ironic smirk gracing her features. In her hand, she held a tattered and wrinkled sheet of notebook paper. She bit back a laugh as she skimmed her lover's hasty scrawl.

"Elphaba," the prince asked cautiously, "what have you got there?" It was meant to sound casual, but Fiyero's panic was difficult to disguise.

"Well, I was a bit suspicious of your sudden, voracious consumption of our previously unused notebook paper, so I decided to see what you were up to." As she continued reading, the grin on her lips fell into an uneasy frown.

"Alright, I suppose I'll have to do this now. Elphaba, I love you more than anyone or anything else in the world, and I've wanted to ask you this for about a year now, but never got up the courage to do it properly, so…" he pulled the ring from its hiding space, and continued, "will you marry me?"

Elphaba tried to smile, but could only manage a grimace. "Fiyero, you already know my answer."

Crestfallen but unsurprised, Fiyero persisted: "Elphaba, you can't…"

"I can't what, Fiyero?" Elphaba inquired as she glanced about, itching for some menial task to occupy herself with. She settled on the dirty dishes crowding the sink.

"You can't just brush this off and walk away like that." He hadn't meant to sound harsh, but he couldn't help being hurt by Elphaba's cold rejection.

"Fiyero, do you even know what marriage is?" asked Elphaba, bristling at the suggestion. She began scrubbing the dish she was cleaning with more energy than necessary.

"Of course I do, Elphaba. It's a promise to love, and protect, and –"

"No, Fiyero. Marriage is a legal contract. And for two fugitives, even two _presumed dead_ fugitives, to become involved with anything legal is beyond irrational. It's… it's practically suicidal."

"Well, we were only fugitives in Oz," Fiyero countered weakly.

"Oh, in that case, we may as well tie the knot, supposing no one outside of Oz has ever heard of the Wicked Witch of the West. In fact, as long as they're outside of Oz, the two most well-known traitors in one of the world's most prominent countries can conveniently bind themselves in matrimony, making them significantly easier to capture after their mysterious and suspiciously simultaneous disappearances – _what_, Fiyero?" she asked sharply, not noticing how flustered she had become.

"All I was going to say," he replied, leaning in to peck her on the cheek, "is that I think that bowl is clean now."

"Oh," Elphaba looked down sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

"I was also going to say that I love you, and you're probably right." He kissed her again, and she abandoned the dishes to focus entirely on him.

"Something tells me that wasn't all you were going to say," she prompted.

"Well, it would have been, had you continued your rant. But, now that you ask…" The man ran his hand through his hair, and tried to find the right words. "You _are_ right about the legal part, but I propose a compromise: we don't get married by your definition, but instead by mine."

"Remind me again what that would be?" responded the witch, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Forget the legal part, and we'll just have the promise part. We can get married right here, right now, without telling another soul." Elphaba rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on. I'll go first: I, Fiyero Tiggular, take you, Elphaba Thropp, to be my lawfully – " Fiyero paused, then grinned, "excuse me – _un_lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. Your turn – humor me."

"I, Elphaba Thropp, take you Fiyero Tiggular, to be my husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, till death do us part."

"Aren't you supposed to promise to obey?" asked Fiyero mockingly, earning him a playful glare. "I had to try. Now, I kiss the bride," said Fiyero, grazing her lips, "and hand you this ring," he continued, slipping it onto her finger.

"Fiyero , I –"

He kissed her again, silencing her protests. "And now you and I are married, and you are now Elphaba Tiggular, Princess of the Vinkus."

The witch paused and considered this. "I suppose I would be if this were all legal."

"If this were legal, you would have the longest title in Oz – Her Royal Highness Elphaba Thropp Tiggular, Wicked Witch of the West, and Crown Princess of the Vinkus," he announced, punctuating his introduction with a bow.

Elphaba laughed, and kissed him, more deeply this time. "Do illegal marriages still have honeymoons?"

His only reply was to kiss her again.

**YAY! Reviews are amazing and beautiful and help me get through the Odyssey… and I could use all the help I can get to get through that…**


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